


to gaze at you, from afar (I sigh, I sigh, I sigh)

by MatildaSwan



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Photographer, Berena Appreciation Week, F/F, First Meetings, Slow Burn, currently, so many characters make cameos, tags will be updated in due course
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 03:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15699126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: Serena has been in this business too long to let her head be turned by a pretty face. Or so she thought.Though, of course, it's not as simple as that. Nothing ever is, on either side of the lens.Because one thing she knows for sure: the camera never lies.





	to gaze at you, from afar (I sigh, I sigh, I sigh)

“McKinnie!” Serena hears Angus’s god-awful attempted at a nickname drawled down the phone line and cannot help the cringe. No matter how many times she corrects her agent, he never manages to remember her damn first name. “Got a gig for you, a shoot for _Finger on the Pulse_!” Angus exclaimed, sounding rather impressed with himself, no matter that finding her work is actually his job. 

Serena bites back a retort and tries to make her hum of interest sounds as excited as possible. 

“It’s the usual deal, clothes shoot for a high end fashion mag, leggy model, reams of pouting faces, you know the score,” Angus explains before pausing for a moment. “Higher fee than usual though,” he adds cheerfully and Serena perks up for the first time since she picked up the phone. “The model they’ve already signed is one of them up and comings the press are buzzing about but she’s still a bit of an amateur. Last time they called about her we sent one of the guys and they didn’t mesh well, thought it might be time for some of the feminine magic of yours!” 

Serena purses her lips while Angus wheezes down the phone line. She can practically see him slapping his thighs at his own hilarity. She ought to be outraged at the thinly veiled misogyny,  but she has bills to pay and work has been scarce lately—she needs to find a new agent but that requires capital in the first place—and her bank account won’t let her get too high on her horse at the moment. 

“Sure thing Angus, sounds like a great opportunity,” she says, voice light. Wonders if a little ego stroking might make the next time a little easier. “Whatever would I do without you?” She can practically hear the eyelash flutter in her own tone and resists the urge to roll her eyes at herself.

“Good thing we’ll never have to find out,” he says, and the leer in his voice is downright obscene.

Serena keeps the cringe out of her voice as she replies, reminding herself it’ll be worth it if she’s the first call he makes next gig. “So, details?” 

She jots them down as Angus rattles off the particulars. Circles the name Berenice Wolfe a few times and Angus keeps rambling, punctuates it with a few full stops before she finally gets to hang up the phone. Sits the receiver back in the cradle, huffs out her relief, and circles the date on her calendar with a smile on her face. 

She keeps smiling as she sorts out her kit, humming softly as she catalogs and polishes each piece. She takes her time, it hasn’t been used in a while, and hates neglecting her tools. She needs everything in precise order. 

She packs away her lenses and starts to wonder about this new name. She’s never been fond of working with newly professionals, always found them either too timid or too eager to please, never somewhere in the middle and just right. Fresh faces are inevitably the ones that throw out the most surprises and Serena has never been fond of the unexpected.

She likes order, precision, perfection. She likes things to go as planned. She needs this shoot to go well. 

Serena sets her pack to the side and moves on to her lights praying this Berenice doesn’t throw her any surprises.  

* 

She does, in the end: surprises Serena, in a roundabout way, by not throwing a single spanner into the works for the whole shoot. 

She arrives early -- just after she and Mo had finished their final run through of the shoot -- which impresses Serena, with a bird nest on to of her head, which horrifies the hair and make up team. Serena goes over to introduce herself while she’s in the chair and Adele is trying to wrangle her hair. 

“You must be Berenice?” Serena has been wondering about the name since she first heard it, wondered if it’s a stage name or if that parents just chose from a really old fashioned baby book. 

“Bernie, please,” she corrects, her mumbles putting that question to bed. Bernie winces. 

“Sorry.” Adele doesn’t sound sorry in the slightest as she tackles a knot of blonde hair. 

“It’s okay,” Bernie reassures, voice level, as Adele keeps working. She bites back a grunt and covers it well. 

Serena smirks. Raises an eyebrow. Holds out her hand. Takes Bernie’s when it’s offered in return. 

“Serena McKinnie,” she says, all airs and graces. “I’ll be running the shoot today, you want the plan now or during make up?”

“Now is—ow—ah, now is good.” Bernie does her best to give her full attention to Serena and if Serena catches another wince or two out the corner of her eye, she doesn’t hold it against her. 

Serena rambles off a summary of her boards and Mo’s ensembles, finishing the run down as Adele finishes Bernie’s hair. 

Bernie stays sitting when Morven comes over to do her make-up and Serena leaves her to it. Goes to do one last check of the lights, the furniture, her camera, to make sure everything is perfect. 

She beams when Mo wheels over the first set of wardrobe changes and they chat as Serena runs her hands over the coat hangers. Mo leaves to bring over the next rack and Serena runs her eyes over the clothes; tries to suss out which item she’d most like to take home with her. Mo comes back as she tossing up between the leopard print dress or the flowing purple blouse with gold embroidery. Mo eyes her suspiciously and Serena stands her ground.

“I’ll know if something goes missing afterwards,” Mo says knowingly, grinning widely.

“Will you now?” Serena quips back with a smirk, hand resting on the dress hanger.

Mo turns a blind eye and redirects her attention to Bernie, who changes under Mo’s instructions while Serena sets the lights.

The shoot begins and Serena is quite pleased to find the whole affair goes on without a hitch.

Bernie follows orders well, does exactly what Serena says, in exactly the right way Serena hopes she will. She shucks off one outfit for the next as fast as any model Serena has ever worked with and puts her last change back on rack instead of dumping it on the floor or into Mo’s arms. She doesn’t ask for breaks, even though Serena can see her nose twitching and her fingers flick slightly when the second assistant comes back from his smoke break. Even after they’ve been at it for three hours she shows no sign of slowing down and her lapses into silence between shoots just seem to be the way she is, rather than a symptom of fatigue or boredom. 

Serena eventually calls it a day with a smile on her lips, despite the hours they’ve been at it, thinking that she’s never worked with a model who was quite this, well, easy to work with before. 

They pack down the set and Serena notices Bernie stays behind to help Mo sort out the racks. She packs up her kit with the oddest feeling in her chest. They pack down the set, she thanks everyone for their work, and packs up the car. Drives home with the feeling still fluttering in her chest, as she unpacks the car, as she lugs the last armful up the stairs.

_It was perfect,_ Serena realises as she lets herself into her apartment. She dumps her bags on the bench and pours herself a glass of wine to breath. _Working with her made the shoot run perfectly_. 

*

She should have know the prints would be just as good. With legs like that, how could they not be?

None of her films blow, which is a blessing to begin with, but as Serena accesses the negatives she can’t seen a single wasted snap, has to spend twice as long narrowing down the final choices, struggling to decide which version of each outfit is showcased best. It’s hard to decide on the perfect photograph when they’re all almost ideal.

She works up for the portfolio in record time, desperate to see the final prints. She calls Pulses and asks to bring their meeting forward, knows they’ll be swamped with the new season soon enough and there’s no point waiting on finished work. 

She hands over the folio, beaming wide as the floor bustles around her, and quickly taking her leave. One of the editors walks her to the lobby, looms tall and silent next to her till the reach the lifts. He hands her a business card while they wait for the door to open, and _oh_ so casually mentions they have an opening in their in-house photography department. She feel a touch of envy fizz in her veins as she thinks about the set-up she just caught a peak of, the offices running along the whole of one side of the floor, wonders if the opening was voluntary then decides she doesn’t care as he suggests that, perhaps, she might be interested in new opportunities?

Serena smiles coyly as she accepts his card; plays it as cool and serene as she can manage. The doors _ping_ and slide and she walks in to hit the right button. She turns back towards the corridor and stands firm and proud in the middle of the lift. 

“You know, I may just be in the market for some new challenges.”

The twinkle in Hanssen’s eye is everything she needs to know and she smirks as the sliding doors frame her exit perfectly.

*

She moves her things to their offices a fortnight later, follows Hanssen’s lead as they pass through the bullpen of writers into the partitioned photography department. She stops short in the conference space for a second, blinded by the light streaming in through the glass windows, looks past Hanssen to see the room bleed into open air cubicles and an office in the corner still blinking against the brightness. She starts trotting behind him and looks over her shoulder to see a production space a blacked out corner she assumes leads to the darkroom. She drops her things on her desk and thinks it might have more elbow space than her kitchen; waits till Hanssen is satisfied she’s settled before scurrying off to the darkroom. She comes back out again beaming because it’s even better than she’d hoped.

She takes a moment, in the currently empty space to take everything in. Walks over the penthouse window and looks over the city, still smiling. Resists the urge to hug herself, silently congratulates herself instead, on a job well done.

She thinks about the five years she spent clawing her way to get to this, to the top of the professional ladder, as sunbeams warm her face through the windows. Thinks it was worth it, now that she is here, and finally somewhere she’s actually supposed to be. Thinks is it was all worth now that she’s here, gaze out over the city with sunspots in her eyes, and only thing left to reach for is up and more. 

Serena only stops staring out the window when the sound of the bullpen rushes through the now open door; she turns to see two men bumping each other shoulders, laughing over what she imagines is an inside joke, as they walk towards the cubicle beside hers.

They smile when they notice her and come over to introduce themselves. She offers out a hand and they insist on informality—“Serena, please”—and nicknames—“Fletch is fine, and this one here,” he adds with a jerk of the head to the tiny smiling Scot, currently picking up a folder off his desk and holding it to his chest, “is Raf”—she bites back the ninja turtle joke rolling around in her head and they leave her to settle in. She watches them trot back out into the bullpen and make themselves at home at one of the cubicles and she feels a bit more hopeful about finding a friend or two in her colleagues than she was five minutes ago.

She walks back to her spacious new desk and sits down, shifts the pen holder two inches to the left; reveals in her achievement, in finally, finally getting here. Realises that part of her is livid all it took to finally reach the top rung was a pair of long legs and face carved of marble posing for her. 

But even that part of her is overjoyed, because Bernie's is easily the most interesting face Serena has met since undergrad amateur hour. And she can't wait to work with her again. 


End file.
